


and it's true, you'll never beat, but you'll never break

by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger



Series: i'll be coming for your love (okay?) [9]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bisexual Steve Harrington, Dumb boys being dumb boys, Gay Billy Hargrove, Jealousy, Kinda, M/M, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: Steve knows he’s dumb, okay?  Like, he didn’t get into college.  Nearly flunked out of high school.  He’s not smart.But Steve knows two things.One: Billy Hargrove is brilliant on stage; smile slow, fingers easy, voice like a promise.Two: Billy Hargrove is gay as fuck.





	and it's true, you'll never beat, but you'll never break

Steve  _ knows _ he’s dumb, okay?  Like, he didn’t get into college.  Nearly flunked out of high school. He’s not  _ smart _ .  

He has to use the dictionary to find new words he doesn’t  _ know _ all the time.  Words that Nancy and Jonathan and Dustin and Billy know, but Steve  _ doesn’t _ .  He’s not good at, like,  _ knowing  _ things.  He can’t remember a phone number, let alone enough information to pass a  _ test _ .  

He’s not smart.  Nancy used to call him an  _ idiot _ .  His dad did, too, before he kicked the bucket.  

Considering Steve’s pretty much living off of his inheritance and a bit of work here and there at the pet shop on the corner from their apartment in La Jolla and the library, like,  _ sometimes _ when they need someone to  _ stack books _ , he can’t see how they were  _ wrong _ .  No matter how many times someone tells him he’s not.  No matter what his therapist says about  _ being fair to himself _ .  He’s dumb.  He doesn’t know much. 

But Steve knows two things.

One: Billy Hargrove is brilliant on stage; smile slow, fingers easy, voice like a promise.

Two: Billy Hargrove is gay  _ as fuck _ .  

So, it  _ really _ shouldn’t bother him so much to see some girl plastered against him after a show.  Smiling all sweet, batting her pretty eyes, and Steve, like,  _ digs her _ .  She’s  _ cute _ .  Has glasses, so she, like,  _ looks  _ smart, but.   _ Steve _ has to wear glasses, sometimes, when he gets tired of squinting at things, and  _ he’s _ not the brightest bulb in the house.  

And Billy’s  _ gay _ , so.  So she could be  _ smart _ , she could be  _ the prettiest thing in there _ , and it wouldn’t  _ matter _ . 

But watching from the bar, next to Max and Lucas and Dustin with those stupid  _ DO NOT SERVE _ stamps on the backs of their hands, Steve feels something cloying and sticky in his gut.  Makes him purse his lips and knock back a shot. 

When he comes back to the table, Billy's hand has slipped down to her waist, fingertips pressing in at some softness there. She's just the kinda girl Billy went for in high school -- the kind Steve  _ knows _ he slept with, before he came out -- curvy and bright and a little hard around the edges. Someone who can hold their own against Billy Hargrove. 

“Took you long enough,” Billy says. “Thought you got lost on the way over here.”

“He drives like a grandma,” Max says, rolling her eyes. 

Steve bites down on the inside of his cheek. 

“You're right,” Billy says, and his arms still around that  _ girl _ . But then he turns a little, goes a little open and says, “Jimena, this is  _ Steve _ ,” like it's  _ important  _ to introduce this girl to Steve. 

Jimena  _ smiles _ , and Steve is struck a little dumb again by how _ pretty _ she is. 

He smiles back, lips pressed together, and waves. Because what else can he do?

Lucas is staring at him. “Dude. You need another drink.”

Billy  _ grins _ , and Steve's got  _ no idea _ why he's grinning. 

“He's so  _ cute _ ,” Jimena says, twisting a little under Billy's arm. 

“Right?” Billy says. 

Steve has no idea what's _ happening _ . 

He squints at Billy for a second, and then glances back at Jimena. Thinks maybe-- maybe he's supposed to play wingman?

Doesn't know  _ why _ , but. But he's played that for Billy  _ before.  _

So, Steve grins, dumb and sweet and completely forced. “Don't let the pretty face fool you.”

She laughs and it's a  _ good _ laugh. Full of genuine mirth. “Oh, I won't.”

Max groans. “This is a disaster. Stalker, get me a ginger ale or something. I'm gonna vomit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't stop smiling. 

Billy, apparently unphased by anything Max says, just grins. Or rather,  _ keeps _ grinning. 

“Jimena here's a  _ singer _ , Stevie,” Billy says. “Isn't that right, doll?”

Steve's brows arch, because Billy doesn't call him _ Stevie _ , not ever, but Jimena nods. “Yeah. Came by to check the competition out.”

Her eyes linger on Steve and even Dustin huffs out a breath. Steve shifts on his feet. 

“Color me impressed,” Jimena adds. 

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “Billy's really-- like,  _ talented _ , you know?”

Billy just rolls his eyes, hard. Then, he pushes off of Jimena,  _ untangling _ himself from her, and says. “I'm gonna get my free drink now. Anyone want anything?”

“Vodka cranberry,” Jimena says, with a wink. 

Steve glances at Billy and doesn't think he _ should _ drink, probably, with how the night looks like it might be going, but-- 

But he  _ wants _ to drink. 

“Gin and tonic,” Steve says, wiggling his fingers. “With, like, the cucumbers and stuff.”

“Anything you want,” Billy says, and then he's off,  _ gone _ , leaving Steve with Jimena. And Max, which isn't exactly  _ comforting _ . 

“So, you sing.” Steve says. 

Max narrows her eyes. “Do you already have a  _ band _ or something? Or are you, like,  _ solo _ ?”

She says it like it's kinda gross. Dustin tugs at one of her curls.

“Max, let’s go help Lucas at the bar. He's juggling drinks.”

“It's a hobby,” Jimena says. “I'm not as good as Billy.” 

Max just  _ huffs _ , and then  _ leaves _ . Fucking off and leaving Steve  _ here _ . 

“So,” Steve clears his throat. “So, like, what else do you do?”

“Little things, here and there. Right now, I wait tables. What do  _ you _ do?”

“Um.” And Steve _ hates  _ that question because he doesn't _ do _ anything. “I'm between jobs, right now. I help Billy book his shows, sometimes. His bassist says I'm their unofficial manager.”

“That's  _ cool _ ,” she says, taking a step toward him. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a model?”

Steve blinks. “No?”

“Well,” Jimena says, smiling. “You do. Billy said you did, and he wasn't wrong.”

“Well. Thank you? I mean, Billy's pretty, um…  _ generous  _ with his compliments, so.”

“Is he?” Jimena asks, touching her lip with her finger, like she's thinking. “He seems  _ nice _ , but not overly so.”

“No, he's  _ really _ nice. Like, he just hides it real well?”

Jimena just hums and twirls a finger in her hair. Somehow, she makes it look cute, instead of ditzy. “Are  _ you _ nice?”

“I mean,” Steve blinks again. “I guess. I can be?”

“You can be what?” Billy’s voice says right in Steve's ear. He slides an arm around Steve's shoulder and suddenly Billy's heat is surrounding him. 

Steve leans into him without thinking about it, taking the drink Billy offers. “Nice.”

“ _ Ooh _ ,” Billy says. “Stevie here’s  _ real _ nice. One of the nicest people I know.” 

And then he's handing Jimena her drink and taking a sip of his own. 

Steve frowns over at Billy, trying to figure out what kind of game he's playing, only sipping from his own drink when Billy lifts a brow at him. It burns down just right and has extra cucumbers. 

Steve tucks a little closer. Lets himself press his hand to the small of Billy's back; familiar, affectionate, and all the things they usually are _ alone _ . 

“I'll have to take your word for it,” Jimena says. “You haven't lied so far. He's just as pretty as you promised.”

Steve's nose wrinkles; doesn't really _ dig _ anyone but Billy calling him _ pretty _ . 

“The brats want Denny’s, after this.” Steve tells Billy, instead of choking out another _ thank you _ for a compliment he doesn't want. “Did you want to come with, or?”

“Denny's is the  _ worst _ ,” Billy says. “Of course I wanna come.”

Steve relaxes a little, shoulders going easy. “Awesome. The band can come, too, if you want?”

“Nah, I think they've got plans,” Billy says. Which means that Billy turned  _ down _ their plans to go to Denny’s. “But we've always got room for one more,” Billy  _ then _ says, eyes flitting over to Jimena. 

“Oh?” she says, and then looks at Steve. “But I wouldn't want to intrude…”

Steve blinks again, biting on his cheek and glancing at Billy. He's not _ exactly sure _ what's happening, but something horrible is opening up in his gut. All black and rancid and jagged teeth. 

But before he can make sense of it, before he can trip over himself to make whatever is happening  _ work _ , like Billy seems to _ want it to _ , Max is there, hooking her arm in Steve's, smile sharp. 

“Sorry, it's kind of a  _ private thing _ . Like, we don't usually invite other people. Messes with the _ vibe _ .”

Steve has never, in his life, been more grateful for Maxine and her sharp tongue. 

Billy doesn't  _ say _ anything, but Steve can  _ feel _ him bristle. Like he wasn't expecting that. 

“Maxine,” he says and then just  _ sighs,  _ like he's  _ tired _ . 

“Oh, no, it's okay,” Jimena says. “I totally get that.”

“Rad,” Max says, grinning. “We heading out, then?”

“I  _ just _ got a drink, Maxine,” Billy says, and he sounds  _ mad _ . 

“Whatever,” Max huffs. “I'm gonna go dance. You good, Steve?”

Steve bobs his head, drinking because he doesn't trust his voice, doesn't really know what's going on. Max sighs and flits off to find Dustin and Lucas. 

“Sorry,” Billy says, at Jimena. He unwraps his arm from Steve and leans on the table, instead. “She can be kinda -- rude to new people.”

Steve misses his touch instantly. Ardently.

Feels something ache in him as Billy gives him an expectant look over his shoulder.

“Should I, uh… go check on her?” Steve asks, wavering between wanting to stay because Billy seems to want him to, judging by the frown on his face, and wanting to book it away from that table as fast as he can. 

“No, it's okay,” Billy says. “I will. You two keep the table warm.”

And then he's  _ gone _ . 

Again. 

Steve realizes, dreadfully, that Steve isn't Billy's wingman-- Billy is  _ his _ . And it makes that sticky, icky,  _ dark _ feeling in his stomach yawn _ wider _ . 

Sipping his drink, Steve offers a tight smile at Jimena. “You said I look like a model. Do you draw or, like, paint? My friend Jonathan takes pictures-- I've been in a few of his, so. Like, I get where the appeal would come from if you're an artist or something.”

“Well, sometimes I paint,” she says, like she’s admitting to a secret. “So, you’re used to modeling -- for a friend?”

And the worst part is that Jimena is  _ nice _ . She’s sweet and she’s pretty and she seems like a  _ fun _ person. In another life, Steve might’ve been into her. But.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Steve says, and he hates that he has to do this-- hates that Billy has kind of put him in this position. “Listen, uh. I don't-- I'm not sure what Billy _ said _ other than I'm  _ pretty _ , but-- but I'm kind of…  _ involved _ with someone.”

And, Jimena, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even  _ bat an eyelash _ . 

“That’s okay,” she says, and touches his arm, lightly. Still smiling. “He just said you were pretty, and nice, and he wasn’t wrong. You’re both of those things. Whoever you’re involved with is very lucky.”

Steve feels something loosen up in his shoulders; finds his smile a little easier for the first time tonight. 

“Thanks,” he says, even if he's lying through his teeth. “They're pretty great, when they wanna be, too, so.  But, like, if you ever need a model to paint, I'm used to staying still for hours on end.”

“Always,” she says. “You’d be very fun to paint. Lots of angles,” she says, and pulls her fingers over her own jawline. “Besides, I’m always looking for new friends. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“ _ No _ , I just-- wasn't sure who you were after, there, for a second.” Steve says, smile going crooked.  “But friends are good. Really good.”

And then she laughs. Friendly and cheery and like someone Steve would  _ want _ to have in his life, which is kinda  _ nice _ . “Oh! You thought -- honey, I’m pretty sure he’s  _ really gay _ .”

Steve snorts, nodding his head. “Like,  _ super _ gay.”

“Anyway, I wasn’t really  _ after _ anyone. Though if you  _ had _ been interested, I’d go home with you in a heartbeat. I was just looking for a fun night and some new faces. But I’m not looking to intrude.” She takes a sip of her drink, then puts it down on the table and reaches out a hand to Steve. “If you want to model sometime, I can give you my number. It’s up to you if you want to text me yours. If not, no hard feelings.”

“Yeah. That sounds like a good time,” Steve says, digging in his pocket and placing his phone in the cradle of her palm. 

She types in her name,  _ Jimena H. _ , as Steve sees when she hands it back, and her number. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Steve. Or do you prefer  _ Stevie _ ?” Before he can even answer, she’s laughing again and picking up her drink. “Don’t worry, I won’t call you that. I don’t think you like it very much.”

“Yeah, I-- I really don't.” Steve huffs, head dipping.  “Just Steve is fine.”

“Maybe you should tell  _ him _ that,” Jimena says. And then she’s dipping close to press her lips to his cheek in a quick  _ goodbye _ . “Hasta la próxima, Steve.”

And then she’s off, Billy replacing her just moments later. 

“They’re all waiting outside. Fuck, did she leave?”

“Yeah, she did.” Steve says, smile dropping, and he downs the rest of his drink before setting it aside. “Ready?”

And Billy’s  _ looking _ at Steve, eyes on Steve’s face. “What?”

“Are you ready to go?” Steve says, slow, like maybe  _ Billy's _ the dumb one. 

But Billy’s not budging. “Did you guys, like, not get along or something?”

“We got along _ fine _ . She's  _ real _ nice. Gave me her number and everything.” Steve says, sliding from his spot at the table. “Why? Did you want me to go after her? Bring her back home? Show her a good time?”

“Jesus, why are you  _ pissed _ ?”

“You're _ ridiculous _ ,” Steve says, because he can't exactly tell him _ why _ he's mad, that he feels _ gross _ at the idea of Billy  _ passing him along _ or whatever he's trying to do; they haven't gone home with anyone but each other in _ months _ . 

Or, at least, Steve hasn't.

“If you wanted the place to yourself tonight, or something, you could've just _ said _ . You don't have to get me laid to get yourself laid.”

“Jesus christ,” Billy says. He opens his mouth, like he's gonna try to explain himself, like he's got  _ anything  _ to say -- but then he snaps it closed, eyes dark. “You know what? No. Whatever. I'm not feeling hungry anymore, so.”

“Yeah, okay,  _ whatever. _ ” Steve says. “Have fun. Use a rubber. See you later or what the fuck ever.”

And Billy's face does  _ something  _ at that. Steve's not even sure what to  _ call _ it, because it's not an emotion he's ever seen Billy  _ wear _ before -- but he doesn't get to look at it too long, because anger eats away at it until Billy’s scowling, snarling back. 

“Yeah  _ okay _ ,” Billy says and Steve can  _ see _ his fingers clenching into and out of fists at his side. “Because me trying to hook you up with someone makes  _ me _ a whore.  _ Cool _ .”

And then he’s turning, snatching his shit from the table. 

“I'm going home,” Billy says, barely even turning around. “I won't wait up.”

And then he's striding toward the stage doors to retrieve his shit. 

Away from Steve. 

And Steve's still  _ mad _ and he's still _ hurt _ , and this isn't  _ fair _ . 

So, he takes after him, uses his long legs to make up the missing space-- but knows better than to put hands on him. 

“Hey,” he says, but Billy doesn't stop. “ _ Hey _ .  _ I'm _ not the one  _ pimping  _ his  _ friend _ out.”

“What the fuck? Wow, alright,” Billy says, and he's  _ still _ not stopping, so Steve just follows him as he pushes his way through the doors into the deafening quiet of backstage. “I'm not fucking talking about this with you right now.”

“ _ Yes _ , you fucking  _ are _ !” 

Steve doesn't mean to yell. He  _ doesn't _ . But he _ does _ and he's _ loud _ and it's enough to make Billy  _ look  _ at him. 

Breath catching, Steve falters to a stop. He thinks he sees someone with a headset on, in all black, turn on their heel and walk away. But he's not sure because his focus is on Billy. 

Because it's  _ always _ on Billy. 

But Billy looks  _ mad.  _ His shoulders are tense and his whole body screams  _ threat,  _ instantly. 

Steve watches the way Billy's jaw clenches as he turns, as he takes a couple deep breaths, fingers twitching at his side. 

“We're not talking about  _ shit _ if you're gonna  _ yell _ ,” Billy says, real calm. 

And Steve  _ knows _ better. He  _ does _ . Billy's got a _ history _ . 

But it's not _ fair _ . And Steve knows it's _ stupid _ , knows _ he's stupid _ , but Billy trying to hook someone up with him feels an awful lot like he's _ breaking up _ with him. 

“ _ God _ . Whatever.” Steve says, and his voice breaks, and he needs to  _ leave _ , right _ now,  _ before he does something dumb. “Fuck you, Billy. I'll crash somewhere else tonight.”

And then Billy's face is doing that  _ thing _ again, before it goes back to angry as hell. “Fuck  _ me _ ? Yeah okay,  _ sure _ . Because I was being such a fucking  _ dick _ trying to set you up with a pretty girl. Yeah,  _ my fucking bad.  _ What a dick move.”

“I didn't  _ ask _ you to. I don't _ want _ you to.” Steve says, voice wobbling. “I haven't-- I  _ haven't _ \-- whatever.   _ Bye _ , Billy.”

And he turns. Turns and walks away, hands curling and uncurling at his sides. 

Walks back out into the mess of the bar. Heads for the exit and out the door. Breathes only when the night air hits his face. 

“Steve!” Dustin crows. “I want a grand slam! Lets  _ go! _ ”

“Uh, where's Billy?” Max asks, eyes darting between Steve and the door. 

“Not coming,” Steve says, padding over. “Tell me the Lyft is almost here.”

“We were waiting for  _ you _ ,” Lucas says, but he's got his phone in his hand, which means that fine, maybe he’ll call it  _ now _ . 

But  _ now _ isn't fast enough, because Steve hears the slam of the door behind him, hears familiar footsteps stride up behind him. 

“What the  _ fuck _ is your problem?” Billy says, seemingly uncaring that they're in the middle of a sidewalk, that the kids are  _ right there _ . 

When Steve turns, Billy's further away than Steve thought he'd be. Like he's keeping his distance. 

“I'm done talking to you,” Steve says, because he can't be  _ around him _ , feels like he's gonna _ cry _ . “If you want to go with the kids, feel free.”

“Okay,” Billy says, voice tight and measured. “You don't just get to decide to fucking  _ corner _ me and yell at me when  _ I  _ said  _ I _ didn't wanna talk and then fuck off and say  _ you _ don't wanna talk because you don't  _ feel _ like it anymore.”

“Jesus,” Steve hears behind him. He doesn't know  _ who _ it is -- Max, maybe. 

“I'm  _ sorry _ ,” Steve says, and he means it. “I didn't mean to shout, okay? I won't come home tonight, so just-- leave me  _ alone _ .”

“No,” Billy says, like it's  _ simple _ . “Why the fuck would I want you to not come home?”

“Maybe it's not about what _ you _ want,” Steve says. 

“ _ Oh _ , boy.” Lucas says. 

“Yeah,” Billy says, and he's back to sounding mean. “I was fucking  _ aware _ of that,  _ thanks _ .” He takes in a breath, hitches his guitar a little higher on his shoulder, and says: “But maybe make it sound less like you're doing  _ me _ a favor by not coming home -- just  _ say _ you don't wanna. I'm an adult, I can fucking take it.”

Steve opens his mouth and then shuts it again. Because he's _ tired  _ of lying today.

Turning away from Billy, he digs into his pocket and offers the kids a twenty. 

“Have fun. Text me when you get home.”

And then he's walking off. Walking _ away _ . Because he can't _ do this _ . 

He can  _ hear _ words behind him, Billy and the kids talking. Until it gets fainter and fainter. 

He thinks he's free, until he hears the sound of boots, running up behind him. 

But Billy doesn't say anything. Just falls back into a quick walk a couple paces behind Steve. 

Steve shoves his hands into his pockets so that Billy won't see them shake. “Stop following me.”

“It's late as hell. You shouldn't be  _ walking.  _ Take an uber.”

“I'll be _ fine _ ,” Steve says, head bowing, lips pressed thin. 

“Yeah? And what if you're not?” 

“Then you'll have one less roommate to worry about.”

Billy falters at that. Steve can't hear his steps for a moment, but they start up again. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Billy says, and then Billy's grabbing at him, tugging Steve back by the arm until they've  _ stopped _ . “I don't even -- what the  _ fuck _ , Steve?”

“ _ What _ , Billy? I'm _ fine,  _ okay?” And Steve pulls to get away because if he doesn't he'll just sink right back into him, but Billy's fingers tighten. “I'm not gonna do anything _ stupid _ , alright? I'm just gonna go book a hotel room for the night.”

“Yeah, it's totally fine that you think I wouldn't give a shit if you  _ died _ . That's  _ cool _ .”

Billy's face looks like it's gonna  _ break _ . Like he's  _ hurting _ . Which is stupid, because Billy doesn't give a shit. 

“I didn't _ say _ that,” Steve hisses. “ _ Jesus _ , Billy.”

“That I'd have  _ one less roommate to worry about? _ What fucking  _ else _ does that mean? And,” Billy's voice goes a little rough, a little mad, a little sharp, “and since when aren't we  _ friends _ ?”

“It means whatever you _ want _ it to mean, I guess.” Steve snaps. “Since you're so keen on putting words in my mouth tonight. I never said we aren't _ friends _ .”

“You heavily fucking implied it. You can't  _ say _ shit and then get mad when I hear what you say and not what you apparently  _ mean _ .”

“I  _ know _ , okay? I  _ know _ I'm bad with words and _ everything _ , okay? But I  _ can _ get mad-- I  _ am _ mad, Billy, so just--" Steve pulls again, and shame burns in him when a whine, desperate and cracking, catches in his throat, and he feels like he's at the tipping point, eyes already stinging. “Just  _ let me go _ , okay? Please? I can't _ do this _ , right now. I don't wanna  _ do this _ .”

And Billy lets go, but he doesn't back off. Just goes a little more solid, a little more resolute. “Will you go back to the apartment if I crash at Max’s?”

“ _ No _ ,” Steve says and hiccups in the next breath, steps back and spits a curse, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “God  _ damn it _ .”

Why the hell won't Billy just  _ leave _ ?

“Okay,” Billy says, after a minute. “The lyft’s, like, five minutes away, okay?”

“ _ No _ ,” Steve says again, and there are tears and he  _ hates _ it; hides his face from the shame of it.  “I'm not-- I don't  _ want to--  _ just  _ go _ , Billy.  _ Please _ . I'll be  _ fine _ .”

But Billy doesn't budge. 

“I'm not  _ leaving _ you, Steve. I can just -- back off, if you want.” He even takes a couple steps back, hands raised. “But I'm not leaving you.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, half hysteric and strained. Wants to say  _ but you are _ . Wants to tell him _ not to lie _ .

Friends don't  _lie_. 

He doesn't. He swallows it all down, with the rest of his heart, and shakes his head. 

“Why would you--?” Steve breath hitches in his chest, and he blows out long and slow like he was taught. “Why would you even  _ do that _ tonight? Why would you want me to go home with someone else unless you didn't  _ want me _ at the apartment?”

“Why would I --” Billy starts, but then stops, mouth snapping closed and hand going to his hair, dragging through it and pulling, fingers clearly itching for something to do. He takes in a breath, sharp, and then talks: “Because,” he says, “because you used to go on dates and shit all the  _ fucking _ time and I don't wanna  _ take _ that from you.”

“I haven't-- I  _ haven't _ since we--" Steve's throat works, chokes on the words, rubbing at his eyes, his cheeks, his face, sniffling and trying to stop  _ crying _ . “I haven't _ wanted _ to--”

“I don't want you gone,” Billy presses. “I  _ never  _ want you gone, I --” Billy swallows and Steve can hear the quick shuffle of fabric as Billy does something -- dig his hands into his hair, maybe. “I just don't wanna be like,  _ keeping _ you from something.”

“I haven't slept with  _ anyone _ but _ you _ , and I haven't  _ wanted to _ !” Steve says, the words an angry, hurt rush; too honest, too earnest, too raw. 

Billy's quiet for a second, stunned into silence. “ _ Okay _ ,” he finally says. “Jesus, okay. That's --  _ okay _ .”

“It's  _ not _ ,” Steve breathes, shuddering out another hiccup. “I just wanna  _ go _ , okay?”

“For what it's worth, I haven't either, okay?” Billy says, like it's not a lie, like he's not just  _ saying _ it. “Look. I get that you want nothing to do with me right now, okay? But I'm not leaving you out here in the middle of the night while you're -- look, I'm not  _ leaving _ you. That's it. End of story.”

Steve, for a brief moment,  _ hates Billy _ .  Hates him for being kind even when he's being cruel.  _ Hates  _ him for having so much impact on him, no matter what.  _ Hates  _ him because he wants nothing more than to press into him, seek comfort, and forget this whole thing happened. 

He almost says it. Almost. 

“Please,  _ please _ , Billy, just--”

“Look. The lyft is almost here, alright?” Billy says, flashing the screen of his phone to Steve, like Steve can even  _ read _ it with how far away Billy is. With how fucked up and watery his eyes are right now. “I care enough to not leave you here, okay. I don't  _ want _ anything to happen to you, so I'm gonna make sure you get where you're going and then I'll fuck off, I promise. I'll shut up, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve sniffles, arms folding around himself, holding himself. “Fine.”

Billy opens his mouth to talk -- but then shuts it again, fast, arms crossing, too. Waiting, silently. His guitar is gone, probably foisted off on one of the kids. 

Steve wants to apologize. Wants to tell Billy to forget all of this. 

He doesn't. Just focuses on his breath instead.  Keeps his gaze down. 

Before he knows it, the lyft is pulling up and some guys leaning out the window going “Billy?” 

“Yeah, right here.” 

And then Billy’s opening the door for Steve. 

Steve sighs. He climbs in and then turns to Billy. 

“Get in.  Let's-- let's go _ home _ , okay?”

“Want me to sit in the front?”

Steve sucks in a breath. Tries not to take Billy's words like rejection. 

It stings anyway. 

“Do whatever you want,” Steve says, scooching to the other side of the backseat anyway, slumping into the corner. 

Billy sighs. 

He just  _ stands  _ there for a second, like he's  _ waiting _ , before he closes the door and gets into the front of the car. “Sorry,” Steve hears him say at the driver. 

And they're going, moving, lights passing in the darkness out the window next to Steve's head. 

It's the quietest he's ever heard Billy. 

Steve lets his forehead press to the glass. Lets the tightness in his throat settle. Lets his eyes close. 

It doesn't take them long to get home. Steve climbs out before Billy can try and get his door.

So, Billy just  _ follows _ Steve, like some silent shadow, as he lets himself into the building, as he walks down the hall, as he opens the door to their apartment. 

Quiet the entire fucking time, other than saying  _ thanks _ , again, to the driver. 

Steve feels choked by his quiet. Stifled by it.

Sighing, Steve tosses his keys and his wallet on the coffee table. Breaks the silence before he can drown in it. 

“Listen,” Steve's voice sounds a _ mess _ . “If you're-- if  _ we’re  _ sleeping with other people-- listen, we're using condoms from now on, okay?”

Billy startles when the keys hit the table, but he just crosses his arms, going peak  _ Billy _ to hide any sign that he's on edge or angry or  _ whatever _ . 

“I'm not, but okay,” he says. 

Steve's jaw goes tight. “Don't lie.”

Billy goes a little hard, and Steve can  _ tell _ that he wants to uncross his arms from the way he's shifting, but he doesn't. Just keeps himself contained. 

“Wow, yeah, thanks for that vote of confidence there, Steve. I'm getting all kinds of great shit you think about me tonight, that's perfect.”

“ _ God _ ,” Steve scrubs his hands over his face.  “Whatever. I can't-- maybe we need to _ stop _ .”

And if Steve thought Billy was quiet before, he's extra so now. The apartment is so soundless that Steve's  _ sure _ Billy can hear the way his heart is beating, loud and angry and insistent. 

“Do you  _ want _ to?” Billy takes a breath and it's shuddering, his shoulders shaking with it. “I mean, if you want to, that's -- That's what we should do.”

And Steve's too tired to pretend. 

“Of course I don't want to-- I want  _ you _ .” Steve says, throwing his hands out, voice wet.  “I  _ always _ want you. But I can't-- I  _ can't _ \--”

“If you can't, then we won't. If you can't  _ trust _ me, then we’re  _ definitely _ not.”

“Stop.  _ Stop it _ .  Stop putting words in my mouth. I didn't _ say that _ .  I've never _ said that.” _

Billy groans, finally uncrossing his arms to ball his fists at his side's. White knuckles. 

“You don't believe me when I say I'm not sleeping with anyone else. I'm not  _ putting words in your mouth,  _ Steve. You think I'm fucking lying to you when I'm not, so tell me how that's trust?”

“That's not-- we just, we just didn't _ say _ \-- I just  _ assumed _ that we weren't sleeping with anyone else, but that doesn't mean you can't or couldn't or-- or _ whatever _ . It doesn't--" Steve sucks in a breath, swallows back that  _ it doesn't matter _ . “If you say you aren't, I  _ believe you _ , okay? I'm sorry, I'm just-- I'm just _ being stupid _ , okay? I'm just _ stupid _ .”

“You're not stupid,” Billy says, like  _ that's  _ the only important thing. Like  _ that's  _ what he's caught up on. “Jesus, Steve, you're anything but stupid.”

Steve shakes his head. “I am. I am, I'm sorry, I should-- I should know better.”

Billy just sighs. “I'm sorry I made you feel like you were stupid. You're not, ba--” Billy stops, cuts himself off mid-word and curses under his breath. “You're not, Steve.”

Steve laughs, hysteric and wet, because he can't do anything else. Because he'll cry again if he doesn't. 

“Oh, god, this is it, isn't it?” Steve asks, voice high. “This is-- I thought I'd-- I thought we'd have more _ time _ \-- but you were, you were calling me  _ Stevie _ , and-- and  _ now _ \--”

Billy makes a noise and Steve doesn't know what it  _ means _ , but then suddenly Billy's right there in front of him. Hovering just shy of touching him. 

“Look, if I touch you, are you gonna punch me? Because I gotta  _ know _ that,” Billy says. 

“ _ No.  _ I'd never-- I'd _ never _ \--”

Billy just makes another noise. Doesn't apologize, but does look a little sorry about it. Doesn't say  _ didn't think you'd yell _ ,  _ either _ , but Steve  _ knows _ he's thinking it. 

It's weird, seeing Billy a little  _ scared.  _ But Steve only gets to see it for what it truly is for a moment, because then Billy's wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him close. 

“If you  _ want _ this to be it, it can be. But,” Billy swallows, loud. “I don't really  _ want _ it to be.”

Steve shudders, tense for as long as it takes for Billy to breathe out, and then he folds into him. Presses his face to Billy's shoulder and clutches him close. 

“No. No, I don't want this to be it.”

Billy smooths his hand down Steve's spine, slow and tentative. 

“Okay,” Billy says. “Then it's not it. But we probably should, like,  _ talk _ about this. Instead of -- this. Whatever this is.”

Steve nods, a bit helpless, a bit hapless, and he curls his fingers into Billy's shirt even as his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. 

“Doesn't have to be now,” Billy says, after a while, after his hand has traveled over Steve's spine and his shoulders too many times to count. 

“Tomorrow,” Steve breathes. “Please? Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Billy promises. “Do you wanna sit?” He sounds  _ tired _ . As tired as Steve feels. “Or do you wanna stay like this?”

“Bed. Can we--? I just… I just wanna lay down. With you. Is that--? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell earlier. I didn't mean--”

“It's fine,” Billy says, even though it isn't. “I'm just not good with --” He huffs and then goes quiet. “It's whatever. Let's go to bed.”

And then Billy pulls back, all of his warmth  _ gone _ except for a single hand on Steve's shoulder, guiding him toward the bedrooms. Letting Steve pick. 

Steve pads toward Billy's room. Opens the door. Steps in and falters. 

“Is this-- is this okay?”

Billy nods. “Yeah, it's okay. Whatever you want.”

“Billy, I-- I'm  _ sorry _ .” Steve says, hanging his head, hiding his face behind a hand. “I'm sorry. You're my-- you're my  _ best friend _ .  I trust you with _ everything _ .  I don't… I didn't mean to make you think otherwise, okay? And I didn't mean to  _ yell _ , I was just-- it seemed like you were-- I was  _ scared _ .”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” Billy says. 

When his fingers pry Steve's hands off his face, so gentle, Billy doesn't look angry. Just so tired, but still a little wide-eyed and keyed up. 

“Let's go to bed, okay?” Billy says ushering Steve closer to the bed. 

Steve shuffles back, but he clutches at Billy's hand. 

“No, you-- you gotta _ know.  _ I gotta  _ tell you _ , okay? You're-- you're _ important _ and I was stupid and awful and I'm  _ sorry _ .”

“You're important to me too,” Billy says, fingers going tight over Steve's, squeezing for a moment. “You're my best fucking friend, too. And I need  _ you _ to know that, alright? That I give a shit about you. I give  _ so many _ shits about you.”

“I know. I know, I just, I forget sometimes, I'm sorry.”

“Happy to remind you,” Billy says, and then those big hands are guiding Steve to the bed. 

“But I thought you were-- I thought you were--" Steve trips over the words  _ breaking up with me  _ because they aren't  _ dating _ .  “That's why I was so mad.  Earlier, at the bar. That's why it  _ hurt _ , okay?”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that,” Billy says with a frown as he pushes Steve down and starts tugging off his shoes for him. “Look, I know I fucking went about it wrong, but I was just trying to be nice. To not get in your way, alright? I wasn't trying to -- call this off. Or get you out of the apartment, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes, slumping over on the edge of the bed, relief welling up in him, draining him dry of desperation. “Okay. I'm sorry, baby.”

“It's okay,” Billy says. “You want your shirt on?”

“ _ Billy,” _ Steve's hands settle over his. “Stop. Okay? You don't-- you don't have to. I  _ scared _ you earlier.”

“Yeah,” Billy admits, which isn't something he would've done a year ago. Hell, it isn't even something he'd have done an  _ hour _ ago. “But you're upset and--” Billy just shrugs, hands going a little limp under Steve's. “It's my fault.”

“You were trying to be nice,” Steve tells him, even though it's all so raw. “You were just trying to be nice, and I-- I shouldn't have yelled.”

“Yeah, well,” Billy says, and it’s clear he’s still a little touchy about the yelling, but he  _ did _ accept Steve’s earlier apology, so things are definitely better than they were ten minutes ago. And leagues better than half an hour. 

But Steve still feels something in his gut. Something that won't leave him be. 

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

The bed dips as Billy sits down next to him. Steve shifts and rocks as Billy starts unlacing and then toeing off his shoes.

Fingers wrenching together in his lap, Steve sighs. “Are we--? Are we gonna be  _ okay _ ?”

“Remember that time I punched you in the face? Remember when you punched me back?”

Steve swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Yeah. You, uh… you broke my nose.”

Billy’s shoulder knocks into his, just slightly. “And we figured that out, right?”

Steve sighs, exhausted. “That took, like, a  _ year. _ ”

“Okay, but we weren’t friends, first. And we didn’t really  _ talk _ about it. We didn’t give a shit if we figured it out or not, and we  _ still _ did.”

Steve turns and looks at him;  _ really _ looks at him. 

“Billy?” 

Billy meets his eyes for a  _ second _ , then looks away. “Yeah?”

“I--" Steve falters, knows there's no coming back if he says what he wants to say, so he reaches out and carefully takes Billy's hand in his-- gentle as possible. “We'll fix this. You're-- you're _ everything _ . We'll fix it. We gotta.”

“We will,” Billy says, and even though he’s still looking at the ground, and then at their hands, he sounds sincere. “We’re gonna.”

Steve sighs again, tipping forward to rest his forehead to Billy's shoulder. 

“Let's rest. Okay? Can we rest now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Billy says. “Can -- I take off my jeans?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“No,” Billy says, and he suddenly sounds so  _ serious _ . “I wanna do what makes you comfortable. If that means sleeping with my jeans on, fine. If that means sleeping on top of the covers, fine. Hell, if that means sleeping on the couch, that’s  _ also _ fine. I just -- we’ve miscommunicated enough tonight. I just wanna know if I’m doing it right.”

Steve looks up at him. Wets his lips and hesitates because-- because he's  _ bad with words  _ and he's _ tired _ of being stupid tonight. 

So, he aims for brutally honest and painfully simple. 

“I want you here, next to me, in bed. I want you naked and I wanna be naked because I wanna feel you and touching you makes me feel _ calm _ .  I want to hold you and I want you to hold _ me _ . I want you  _ here _ , with me,  _ always _ .”

“Naked’s a  _ lot _ , baby,” is all Billy says.

Steve nods, a lump in his throat, and he tries not to let that hurt. “We don't have to. You just wanted to know what I wanted.”

“You didn’t want me anywhere  _ near _ you, like, half an hour ago,” Billy says. 

“That's because--” Steve sighs. “That's because you make me  _ weak _ . That's because if you’d touched me I'd have to tell you the _ truth _ .”

“Yeah, I think I prefer the truth that I fucked up. I can  _ work _ with that.”

But then Billy’s shucking his shirt, and then his socks, letting them hit the scuffed wood floors of his room.  Steve watches, nodding slow, and his throat works. 

He wants to touch. To map out his skin with his mouth. But he knows better. 

“You really want the truth?” Steve asks on a breath, so soft it makes Billy look at him, makes him falter at whatever he sees on Steve's face. 

Billy bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough that Steve can  _ see _ it. 

“I think you should sleep. That we should talk when we’re not -- when it’s not all so fresh.”

Steve nods. “Okay, Billy.”

Billy pushes himself up off the bed and shucks his pants -- but stops there, keeping his boxer-briefs on. 

Then, he turns to Steve. His fingers touch the sleeves of Steve’s shirt. “You want this on?”

“No,” Steve says, and then lifts his arms over his head. 

Lets Billy pull it off for him. Stands and shoves out of his pants until he's just in his socks and underwear. Stands there in front of Billy,  _ waiting _ , and when nothing comes he accepts it and climbs into bed. 

Pulling the blankets up to his shoulders, Steve turns his back to Billy and sighs. Feels the bed dip. Feels Billy slide in next to him. Feels the space between them like a yawning, aching void. 

And he knows. He _ knows _ everything earlier was a lie. Knows that everything's changed and it's _ Steve's fault _ . 

He lets himself ache for it. For what he's just broken with stupid, clumsy hands. 

And he cries. 

Quiet,  _ silent _ , tears dripping down his nose, from the press of his cheek, to the pillow. He cries and hopes Billy never knows. 

Billy doesn’t move for a long while as Steve’s tears soak into the pillow underneath him. Steve thinks he’s probably  _ asleep _ by the time he finally moves, shifting behind Steve slowly, like he’s trying not to wake  _ Steve _ up.

Like he thinks Steve somehow managed to fall asleep with all that’s eating away inside him.

He manages not to flinch when a warm palm gently presses against Steve’s spine, right between his shoulder blades. “You awake?” Billy asks, so soft Steve  _ barely _ hears him.

Steve hesitates and then gives a little nod. Doesn't trust his voice not to give him away. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Steve feels the press of Billy’s forehead against the back of his neck, the heat of Billy’s breath on his skin. “I just wanted to make you happy. I always fuckin’ wanna make you happy.”

And Steve can't bite back the little sob that shakes him, fingers curling into the sheets. Body curving in on itself. 

“Hey,” Billy says, voice soft, but insistent, “ _ hey _ , baby.” And then one of Billy’s arms is snaking around him, pulling Steve in, all of Billy’s body heat suddenly  _ everywhere _ , all at once. “It’s okay, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Steve shakes apart. Sobs again, burying his face in his hands, whining because he can't get the words out.

Billy just shushes him, murmuring soothing things against the skin of Steve’s neck. Gets those big arms around Steve and just  _ holds _ him.

“I'm sorry.” Steve hitches out. “ _ I'm sorry. I ruined it. I'm sorry _ .”

“You didn’t,” Billy says, through Steve’s words, through the sobbed repetition. “You didn’t, baby.” 

And Steve thinks Billy can’t  _ know _ that, but he sounds so  _ sincere _ . Feels it, too, with those hands rubbing up and down on Steve’s ribs.

“I did.  _ I did _ ,” Steve whispers into his palms. “I'm so-- I'm so _ stupid _ . I ruined  _ everything _ . I'm so  _ sorry _ .”

And then Billy’s pulling away -- but Steve doesn’t even get a  _ chance _ to think about it, because Billy’s  _ moving _ him, flipping Steve over with that strength of his, getting his hands on Steve’s face in the dim light of the room.

“No,” Billy says, “hey, stop it. Steve, baby, you gotta stop. It’s okay, you didn’t ruin anything.”

Billy’s fingers grasp Steve’s tear covered ones, thumbs grazing over Steve’s wet cheeks. 

But Steve  _ can't _ stop. He just keeps _ crying _ . He shakes his head because he _ can't _ , because Billy's _ wrong _ , even if he doesn't know it, yet. 

He feels like he's digging himself deeper and deeper into this terrible, dark pit in himself. Trying to hide in it. 

“I did,” he says again. “I got jealous and then I got hurt because-- because I thought you were _ passing me along _ , I thought you were _ done _ with me, and I  _ yelled at you _ , and I didn't mean it--  _ I didn't mean it _ .”

“It’s okay,” Billy says. “It’s okay. I wasn’t passing you along and I’m not  _ done _ with you, baby. I promise. Okay?”

“You can barely-- you can barely _ look at me.  _ I scared you.  _ I scared you _ .”

Billy doesn’t say anything for a second. But then he’s pressing his lips to Steve’s cheek, fingers tightening over Steve’s hands. 

“You didn’t mean to, baby. My trauma isn’t your problem. You weren’t  _ trying _ to scare me. I’m not  _ mad _ .”

“I know better. I should know better.”

Steve hitches in another breath. Lets it back out again. 

“I shouldn't have gotten mad. I shouldn't have gotten _ upset.  _ I don't have the _ right _ \--”

“You’re allowed to get upset,” Billy says. “You’re allowed to get mad. I should’ve asked you. Should’ve checked, first. Instead of surprising you with it.”

“I'm sorry,” Steve says again, clutching at Billy's hands in the dark. “I'm so sorry.”

“Hey,” Billy says, “ya gotta stop apologizing, baby. It’s okay.  _ I’m  _ sorry, too. We’re both sorry. Please don’t  _ cry _ .”

Steve sucks in another breath. “I'm  _ trying _ .”

“What can I do?” Billy asks. “Tell me what I can do.”

And Steve doesn't _ know _ . Doesn't know if Billy can do  _ anything _ to ease this heartache. 

“Just hold me. Just-- let me _ pretend _ .”

“I’m right  _ here _ ,” Billy says, and then he’s bundling Steve into his arms, pulling him close to his chest. “You don’t gotta  _ pretend _ . I’m right here.”

Steve presses his nose to Billy's collar. Stays there, warm and _ safe _ , until his breath starts to even back out again. Breathes him in and pretends like this is  _ love _ . 

With Billy’s hand rubbing circles on his back, his fingers stroking through Steve’s hair -- it’s not hard.

It’s even easier, when Billy’s lips press against his hair. Sweet.

Eventually, Steve calms down enough to be embarrassed. He presses his face a little harder against him, curls his fingers at his sides, and shudders. 

“I need a tissue,” Steve mumbles, voice nasally.

“I’m gonna have to let you go to grab one,” Billy says, fingers playing over the topography of his spine, pressing in a little at the foreign knots. Easing the tension. 

“I already _ cried _ all over you. Don't make me get _ snot _ all over you, too.”

“Okay, okay,” Billy says, and then he presses  _ another _ kiss to Steve’s head before he extricates himself from Steve and pushes himself away to snag tissues off the box on his desk.

Steve sits up to take them, sniffing all the while. His fingers are shaking a little. His face feels hot. 

But he's too _ tired _ . 

After he's done cleaning himself up a bit, tossing the used tissues somewhere near the trash bin by Billy's door, he slumps and buries his fingers into his hair, pulling. 

“Hey, baby, don’t do that,” Billy says, getting his hands on Steve’s hands again, sliding in next to him.

Steve lets him untangle his fingers from his hair. Lets him bring his hands to his mouth, kissing the backs of his knuckles. Lets him press close. 

“I'm tired,” Steve whispers. 

“You should go to sleep, baby,” Billy says.

In the darkness, Steve can see the way Billy’s eyes linger on his face. Billy flexes his fingers a little, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he keeps his hand there, right where Steve can feel his breath warm his skin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should go to sleep.” Steve nods, frowning to himself, dropping Billy's hands. 

For a moment, Billy’s hands just stay there, unmoving, untouched. But then Billy sighs and settles down in the bed. 

“If you’re tired, you should sleep.”

Steve stares at him for a long time. Watches his chest rise and fall. Knows that this is the moment that breaks them completely. 

He untangles himself from the sheets and covers. Carefully climbs out of bed as Billy goes stiff. 

“Baby?” Billy asks, pushing himself back up, sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist. 

“I'm gonna go to bed,” Steve says. 

Billy’s fingers fist in the sheets. 

Then, he’s pulling them off, sliding half off the bed, graceful, like one of those big jungle cats Steve loves to think of him as, until his feet settle on the floor. 

“Sleep here,” Billy says. “You were gonna sleep here.”

Steve shakes his head, lips thin. “I shouldn't.”

And Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Billy look quite so  _ lost _ before, sitting half-naked, hovering just outside of Steve’s reach. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” Billy says, and his voice sounds  _ rough _ . “You wanted to.”

Steve nods, shuffling forward, reaching out to curve over Billy's jaw. Leans down to kiss his brow.

“I want to. I always want to. But I shouldn't.”

Billy’s fingers hover at Steve’s side, grazing his skin hesitantly until he’s touching, light, but  _ there _ . 

“Baby, it’s not -- look, we’ll figure it out, just --”

“Billy.  It's okay.” Steve kisses his forehead, lingering there. “We'll talk in the morning.”

“I don’t --  _ jesus _ ,” Billy says, and Steve can hear the fatigue in his voice, the confusion, the frustration. “I don’t fucking get it. I don’t  _ understand _ . Baby, just  _ stay _ .”

“I don't wanna pretend anymore,” Steve breathes. “I don't wanna pretend, Billy. It hurts too much. I want-- I want you  _ too much _ .”

“Then  _ stay _ ,” Billy says, fingers tightening their grip on Steve’s waist, hot against his skin. “ _ Stay _ . We won’t pretend.”

“Billy,  _ baby,” _ Steve sighs, and his bones _ ache _ , he's so tired. “You don't even know what we're pretending.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” Billy says, but he’s pulling back, going a little jagged around the edges.

“I know. I know, baby. But I am. And it hurts. It hurts because it's not _ real _ .”

Billy’s brow furrows and his shoulders go tense. “What, you think I  _ don’t _ give a shit about you?”

“No,” Steve says, thumbs gentle at his cheeks, gaze soft and heartbroken. “I think you don't love me.”

And Steve didn’t, he  _ wouldn’t, ever _ \-- but Billy  _ looks _ like he’s been  _ slapped _ . 

“What?”

“I've been pretending that this is more. I've been lying to myself because I  _ want it to be more _ . But I can't. I can't, Billy.”

Steve can feel his eyes burning again. The tears. He shakes his head. 

“I'm sorry. I can't keep pretending that you love me when it's not _ true _ . I can't keep pretending because-- because I love  _ you _ .”

Billy stares, dumb and wide eyed, up at him. Steve drops his hands. 

“Good night, Billy.”

And before Billy can reply, before he can tell Steve what he already knows, Steve pulls away. Heads out the door and heads to his room. Shuts the door behind him. Shuts the door on everything. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Songs and shit:
> 
> Cave me in - Eric nam
> 
> Wish I knew you - the revivalists
> 
> Last dance with Mary Jane - Tom petty
> 
> Title song→ hello my old heart - the oh hellos


End file.
